


Don't Lose Your Head

by TheJeksburyGuy



Series: Dullahan Jekyll AU [1]
Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Decapitation, Dullahan - Freeform, Implied abuse, M/M, Multi, Sexual Content, Violence, dullahan!Hyde, dullahan!Jekyll, implied forced experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJeksburyGuy/pseuds/TheJeksburyGuy
Summary: Dr. Henry Jekyll is many things.A gentleman.An alchemist.One of the founders of the Society for Arcane Science.A heavily closeted bisexual.But unbeknownst to those around him, he is also a Dullahan, a race of fae wiped out in a brutal one-sided war with humanity, and one of the infamous Dr. Moreau's creations.And the madman will do anything to get him back..
Relationships: Dr. Henry Jekyll/Dr. Robert Lanyon, Edward Hyde/Dr. Henry Jekyll, Edward Hyde/Dr. Henry Jekyll/Dr. Robert Lanyon, Edward Hyde/Dr. Robert Lanyon
Series: Dullahan Jekyll AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671268
Comments: 25
Kudos: 137





	1. Troubles With The Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a story from my TGS blog, jeks-tgs on tumblr!! It's tagged 'Don't Lose Your Head AU', and after much hesitation, I've finally decided to post it on AO3!! I have a handful of chapters already posted on my blog, and will be trying to post a new one at least once a week.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> -Jeks

_"Papa?"_

_"Yes, Henry?"_

_"Why can't I go outside?"_

_"Because, my little tortoise, the outside is dangerous for you. I'll let you go outside when you're older, and can defend yourself."_

_"How old is older?"_

_"Soon, my little tortoise. Soon."_

* * *

Henry sat bolt upright in his bed with a strangled cry. His red eyes were wide open, cold sweat dripping down his pale skin as he sucked in a few struggling breaths. He eventually calmed down, eyes tearing up. He slowly relaxed, running his hand along the back of his neck. 

_'So, are you going to tell me what happened?'_

The Scot glared at the blond head on his pillows. With a sigh, he reached over, picking up first his own head, and then Edward's. The second tilted his head to bump their noses together, silent for a moment, before commenting, _"You're bleeding all over your night clothes, you know."_ Henry swallowed deftly, and his neck, currently gushing blood, moved as if nodding. He hugged the two heads close to himself, letting out a shaky breath.

"...Moreau was there," He murmured, and he didn't miss how Edward flinched at the name. The blond hesitated, then, _'Did he.. do something..?'_ Henry closed his eyes tight. He couldn't answer that question. So, instead, he lied through his teeth.

"Just the experiments, nothing more," Edward gave him a pitying look, and Henry felt as if he were choking down bile despite not being attached to his neck. He looked at him, then looked away, swallowing back the bitter guilt. "What time is it?" He asked to distract himself. Edward's green eyes drifted to the clock on their bedside table.

_'4:30 in the morning,'_ He answered quietly. _'We got a whole two hours of sleep. I'm proud of you.'_ Another headless nod, then the body began to move. He set himself and his other down on the bloodstained black throw pillow on the nighstand, then turned and began rifling through his wardrobe. Hyde commented occasionally on whether or not the colours matched, and, unsurprisingly, he ended up dressing in blacks and reds, as usual. He slipt off to bathe (regardless of what people seemed to think, Henry was going to bathe thoroughly twice everyday, thank you very much), placing Hyde in the sling beside the basin. As he finished washing his hair, that familiar longing crept painfully into his chest.

* * *

_"Hold still, Henry!"_

_The small child laughed, splashing the water at the man with a shriek of delight. A hearty laugh was his response, and soon the five year old found himself being splashed back. Henry had always enjoyed being clean; it was something his papa had made an important aspect of his life. Not to mention lounging in the hot, relaxing water was something Henry greatly appreciated._

_His head hung in the sling beside the tub, and his papa gently poured water over the auburn curls, rubbing soap into the unruly mop of hair before rinsing it out. He paused, warm hazel eyes looking down at the chubby face framed by soft fabric. He gently lifted the little head out of the sling, brushing back his wet curls and kissing his forehead._

* * *

"Behave yourself, please," Henry asked as he began the painful process of pressing his head down on his neck, tying it tight. The pain was unbearable, but he learnt to grin and bare it quickly. He'd had to; he couldn't exactly walk around London screaming in pain, now could he? He saw Edward roll his eyes and responded with his own far more subtle roll. He picked up the younger's head, long blond hair cascading over his fingers. Edward stuck his tongue out, eyes challenging, and Henry scoffed.

"Alright, fine," He relented, causing Edward to light up with glee. He lifted him up to his face, gently pressing his lips to the blond's. It was normal for them to do this. They could shout insults and sneer backhanded compliments all they wanted, but in the end all that they had was each other. No one else knew what they were, or who had made them, or anything else. It was just Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde, the last remaining Dullahan on Earth. 

Henry pulled back slowly, then kissed the blond's nose, then his forehead. He set him down on the cushion, brushing his hair out of his face.

"Will you be alright?" He asked. "I can put a record on if you'd like."

_'No, no, you'll wear them out at this rate,'_ His other responded casually. Henry shrugged, stooping down to kiss him once more. Edward sighed at the look on Henry's face and smiled. _'Really, I'll be fine! I'll probably just sleep while you're busy.'_ Henry relented, kissing him one last time before slipping out of the room and into his office. He paused in the door frame, turning to look at the other over his shoulder.

"Be back soon, Hydesy," He promised softly, before closing and locking the door. Edward listened to him walk out of the office and close and lock those doors, too. He listened until the Scot's footsteps faded away, then sighed, loneliness already setting in.

_'... come back soon, Jeksy..'_


	2. Dullahans Don't Do Well In Distress

_"Papa? Papa, why are you crying?"_

_"It's nothing, my little tortoise. Papa just.. papa just has a very difficult choice to make."_

_"Can I help?"_

_"...it's time for bed, Henry..."_

* * *

"-nry.. Henry!!"

Henry jumped, red eyes wide, startled. He looked over, noticing a frowning Robert. He managed a shaky smile, Robert's concerned look only worsening. The alchemist slowly got to his feet, bring a hand up to bashfully rub the back of his neck at being caught zoning out. At least, that's what Robert saw and assumed. Really, he was making sure the bandages keeping his head on his neck were still secure.

"I apologize, Robert," He began, cringing at how emotional and cracked his voice sounded. God, he hoped he wasn't— aaand, yep, he had some tears on his face. Great. No wonder Robert looked so worried. "I-I... um.. y-you caught me at a bit.. a bit of a b-bad time, heh... s-sorry, what is it you needed to.. t-to talk about?" He tried to force his usual gentleman's smile, but the tears still fresh in his eyes made it look uncanny and wrong. 

"Forget what I needed," Robert said softly, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder and rubbing it gently. He didn't miss the way the good doctor flinched at that. "Let's focus on what you need right now. Come on, your office isn't far from here, and we can send for Rachel to bring up some tea and biscuits." Henry tried to wave him off, but Robert Lanyon was possibly the most stubborn man in all of the United Kingdoms, and he wasn't about to let his favourite person cry in a hallway and then swallow down his emotions to handle Robert's problems. 

The entire walk up was awkward and silent. Robert didn't want to push out in the open like this, knowing it would make Henry uncomfortable. Henry, on the other hand, would rather have this conversation literally anywhere else besides his office. He knew Edward would be able to hear them through his bedroom door, and that would lead to an argument later as to why Henry hadn't told him he was feeling poorly. The blond could be rather overprotective.

Alas, they reached the glossy double doors, and Robert swung them open with an ease Henry envied. If **he'd** done that, he might have knocked his head loose, and marble was not a comfortable substance to drop something like a head on.

"Robert, really, this isn't necessary," He tried to argue, but the older gent had already guided Henry to his couch and sat him down. Robert Lanyon was not in the mood to fight about Henry's nonexistent self-care, it seemed. Henry fidgeted awkwardly as Robert called Rachel up. The young aristocrat set the phone down on it's hook, then walked over and sat beside him. He took Henry's gloved hands into his own (and god, if his heart didn't skip a beat at that) and looked into his ruby eyes with patience and care. It looked a little too much like—

"Alright, so, what's the matter?" Robert asked, blatant and to the point. Henry hesitated, trying to think up a good lie. He'd never told his dearest friend about Moreau. How could he? The man was infamous for his unethical experiments. He couldn't tell anyone, let alone Robert, that he was, by technicality, the madman's _**son**_.

"It's..." Henry strained through unwillingly lips, red eyes darting around as he tried to find a suitable lie to tell. "I-It's just—"

A sudden burst of noise, shouting and confusion and general clamour, cut him off. Both men leapt to their feet, Henry a bit more carefully than Robert, and rushed out of the office. Well, Robert did. Henry lagged behind until he was certain Robert wouldn't come running back, and once the coast was clear, he turned and rushed into his room. Edward's tense green eyes met his, and the fear only grew as Henry pulled out a small vial full of light green powder. His other scoffed, already disliking what was about to happen, but obediently stuck his tongue out. Henry sprinkled a small amount onto it, and Hyde shuddered with revulsion as he swallowed. Within seconds, the head vanished into green smoke, which slithered onto the ground, up Henry's torso, and finally seeped through the bandage around his neck.

 _"Alright, what's going on?"_ A voice echoed inside Henry's head as Edward, now nothing more than a sentient green flame, settled in his chest, fighting the urge to pop through his neck and look intimidating.

"No idea," Henry admitted under his breath as he rushed downstairs. He nearly fell over the railing of the landing when he saw what was down there. Well, **who** was down there.

A hulking green humanoid holding an elderly woman was desperately trying to rally the Logders attention (a near impossible feat when they were excited, Henry knew from experience). It didn't take a genius to realize that this was the legendary Frankenstein and his- um, her...? - awe-inspiring creation. Moments later, a loud 'boom!' shook the room as one of the walls was slammed through by a large, monstrous amalgamation of animals. Henry paled as a much more familiar face stepped into the room.

Henry Jekyll could only grow cold with horror as he laid his eyes upon Dr. Moreau for the first time in eighteen years.


	3. A Blood Related Matter

The fighting around him blurred into nothing as he stared at Moreau. Moreau stared back, but before he could do anything, Henry had already turned and started running. He leapt out a window, scrambling on to the roof, mind reeling as he heard Moreau starting up his flamethrower, no doubt trying to torch the Creature. He barely made it to the ground when a large owl-bear mixture broke through the wall in front of him, thrown by Frankenstein's monster. The green behemoth caught sight of him and froze, golden eyes wide.

"Du—" The owl-bear lunged at his throat, distracting him, and the spindly Scot spun around on his heel and kept running. 

_"What the fuck!? What the fuck is HE doing here!?!"_ Edward shrieked, flame starting to lick at the bandages around Henry's throat. Henry didn't answer, too busy trying to keep his head, both literally and figuratively. He scrambled over some garbage bins as the fighting spread to the streets outside and around the Society. He made it to a dead end and froze, spinning around in a desperate attempt to correct his error. 

Oh, **shit**.

Moreau blocked the way, and Henry fell over backwards, scrambling away from the man with every step he took. His back hit the cold stone wall behind him, and he felt himself starting to hyperventilate. Moreau stepped closer, stopping right in front of the alchemist. By now, the young Dullahan had curled up in a ball, arms over his head as he trembled. A gloved hand reached out for him, and suddenly he was being lifted up with ease. Henry peeked through his fingers and watched as Moreau was thrown down the alley way. He looked up, and saw a piercing set of bright gold eyes boring down into him.

Frankenstein's monster opened his mouth as if to speak. Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a sudden explosion. Moreau's flamethrower had been damaged when he was thrown, and Creature barely had time to spin around, his back taking the brunt of the damage, Henry held securely and safely to his broad chest.

\---

"Doctor Jekyll!! See, I told you Dr. Jekyll would come to bail us out!!" Sinnett crowed excitedly. The other Lodgers eagerly scrambled to stare out the bars at their saviour. There was Henry, in all his shimmery, singed glory.

And a pair of handcuffs.

The Lodgers watched in disbelief as good, perfect, stainless reputation Jekyll was tossed into a jail cell without remorse. They didn't even undo his cuffs, leaving him stuck on his face. Henry moved as if to struggle to his knees, but quickly gave up as he felt his head shift. 

"What's wrong with him? Why isn't he getting up?"

"Dr. Jekyll? Sir, are you alright?"

"Did they do something to him? Is that blood!?"

"Those bastards!! They roughed him up!!"

Henry sighed, trying to drown out the clamour of the Lodgers and Edward's panicked shouting. He needed to think of a way out of this. The Society would never get any funding if it got out he'd been arrested. He could easily blame Moreau, but that wouldn't change the fact that he was currently behind bars, covered in soot and bleeding heavily from his mouth and nose. A lovely side effect of being a Dullahan; the more stressed he was, the more his neck bled. Since he had his head jammed on (which was pure agony, on top of everything else), the blood had nowhere to go, and thus was either soaking the bandages around his throat or spilling from his nose and mouth. If he didn't calm down soon, he's start crying blood, too, and he really didn't want to think of the panic that would cause.

"What the hell is the meaning of this!?"

 _"Aw, great, Lanyon's here,"_ Edward complained. Henry started to perk up, then felt absolutely humiliated as Robert turned from angrily glaring at how the Lodgers were locked up to looking at Henry. He visibly paled, breathing a shaky, "Good God..", and then he was clutching the bars, looking down at Henry with a horrified expression.

"What the hell is **_this_**!?!" The doctor shouted, immediately getting Brokenshire's attention, as well as a few other officers'. 

"Is something wrong, Dr. Lan—" Brokenshire made a noise like a goose having its neck wrung by an amateur farmhand as he scrambled to get his keys out. He hurriedly opened the cell, and Robert shoved him aside to rush in, kneeling beside his apparently grievously injured friend.

"Henry!!" He gasped, hands flitting about, not knowing where to put them. "What—!? What did they do to you!?!" Brokenshire was already in the process of unlocking Henry's cuffs when Robert turned on him, enraged. "How dare you!? Henry was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, likely fleeing from that madman, and your men beat him like he's some sort of criminal!?" Brokenshire was at a loss for words, visibly disturbed and almost as angry as Robert. 

"I assure you, Dr. Lanyon, I did not give my men any orders to– Christ—!!" Based on the wet, hot feeling currently dripping onto and over the side of his nose, as well as his vision growing blurred and a tad red, Henry could tell he'd started to bleed from the eyes. He quickly took advantage of having his hands free to secure his head back onto his neck, disguising it as him clutching at his head in pain. Not hard to do, considering how much the pressure of having his head on was stabbing into him. Robert helped him sit up, Brokenshire's large hands settling on his shoulder and back to keep him steady.

"Henry, what happened!?" Robert cried out in distress, understandably unnerved by how much Henry was bleeding. Before he could answer, Brokenshire interrupted with a growled, "Give me the names of the officers who did this, Doctor, and I'll have them off the force before you can even blink!"

"I-I'm fine," His voice sounded rough and choked up, too stressed to properly hide how much pain he was in. Brokenshire looked about ready to shake him for answers, but Robert was already cupping Henry's face in his hands and tearing up, so the burly officer couldn't exactly do that. Robert started wiping at the blood with a handkerchief, only to gasp as more oozed down, dirtying what Robert had just cleaned.

"Henry, you're still bleeding!" Robert argued, looking him over for injuries. "We need to get you to a hospital!"

"I'm fine, Robert, really! Besides, we don't have time; the Lodgers—"

"Don't you worry about that, Dr. Jekyll," Brokenshire reassured him, looking guilty for what he believed his men had done to the scientist. "It was Moreau's fault. Really, detaining them all was just a precaution. They were defending themselves, good God, don't worry over it." He and Robert hoisted Henry to his feet, and the gangly-limbed Scotsman stumbled a tad, a bit light-headed from the agony. Brokenshire went off to go give the orders to drop any charges against the Lodgers (and judging by his expression and shaking fists, probably to weed out whoever had presumably beaten Henry), and Robert, still fussing over him, helped him to the door.

They passed by a stretcher on their way out, and Henry went pale as he made eye-contact with a heavily bandaged Moreau. It lasted less than a second before Robert had rushed him outside, already calling out for a cab and trying to shield Henry's bloodied face from view as he noticed people gasping in horror. 


	4. A Very Close Call

"Robert, I. Am. _Fine_."

Henry was honestly starting to get annoyed. His head was aching from being on all day, and Robert, though he meant well, was still fussing over him. 

"Henry, every time you stop bleeding, you start up again within a few minutes!" Robert cried out, throwing his arms around. Henry had barely managed to convince the man to take him back to the Society instead of the hospital, and now Robert was doing his best as Henry's impromptu doctor. One he didn't need. And one who was unintentionally prolonging his bleeding by stressing him out. It didn't help that Edward had retreated deeper into his chest, huddled up and unconscious as he tried to calm down. The poor thing had bad memories involving cells and cuffs, just another lovely little memento left over from their days with Henry's dear old dad, and the jail visit had triggered a bad episode that the blond had taken upon himself to feel in Henry's place. He just wanted Robert to stop fussing and leave him alone so he could slip into his room and coax the younger Dullahan out and comfort him. But mostly, he just needed away from Robert long enough to cool off so he didn't lose his head (oh, the irony).

Thankfully, as if the gods had heard his silent prayers, a knock startled the two, and Ms. Flowers poked her head in with a timid wave.

"Doctor? Frankenstein's waking up, it seems," She informed him. Barely holding back a loud cry of elation, Henry leapt to his feet, quickly following after the woman.

"Thank you for alerting me, Ms. Flowers," He said as they walked together. The young woman seemed to be thinking, then turned to him, stopping him just outside the door to the guest room Frankenstein was currently occupying. He raised a brow, confused.

"Doctor," She began awkwardly. "Frankenstein's monster.. he.. he's been asking for you. Urgently." Henry frowned, perplexed. The sound of grumbling and coughing caught his attention, and he pushed the door open before Flowers could say anymore. The Creature visibly lit up at the sight of him, causing Henry to hasten his steps. It must have been serious if such a stoic figure showed this much emotion; perhaps Frankenstein's condition was worsening, and that's why the Creature had been so insistent. The Dullahan reached the side of the bed across from the Creature, opening his mouth to ask, "So, Ms. Flowers says you—"

"NnnnnnNN **NOOOOOO**!!!"

Henry's red eyes went wide as the fist flew towards his face. He could see it now; his head would be knocked clean off, and then everyone would know he wasn't human, and then they'd discover he was made by Moreau, drag him down to the basement of the Society, strap him down, grab scalpels, and—

Henry stepped back, startled, as a massive green hand snapped out like a viper, grabbing Frankenstein's fist and preventing it from hitting him. Henry blinked, surprised by the genuine anger on the Creature's face as he stared down his creator.

"Creature, what the hell—!?"

"Strike him and I'll be adding another Frankenstein to the list."

The old woman paled, then her face darkened. Despite her seething glare, she dropped her hand, crossing her arms. 

"He will treat you, and you will be kind to him," The Creature ordered. Henry felt highly uncomfortable watching this exchange, confused. His brain jumped about, trying to find a distraction, and when his eyes landed on the Creature's charred back, he focused in on it.

"Dear God," He breathed, walking around the bed (at a good arms length; he didn't trust the old woman not to try another shot at him) to reach the giant. He studied the damage up close, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. "This needs to be addressed. I have some salves in my office as well as some Flesh Weaver, but I'm not sure how well it will work on a burn this severe." Frankenstein eyed her creation with disgusted fascination as his green face darkened in an uncanny resemblance of a blush. 

"I.. really don't think that's necessary," He rumbled as those lithe hands skittered over his back, trying to assess the damage. "My skin is quite hard to truly damage. This will slough off soon enough; it's more irritating than painful." Henry ignored him, muttering under his breath to himself. He stepped back, tilting his head and resting his chin against curled fingers, eyes considerate.

"Well, be that as it may, I still want to handle that soon," Sensing this was a losing battle, the Creature sighed, nodding with defeat. Frankenstein gaped in disbelief; the creature didn't take orders from _anybody_ , let alone some gangly, nobody, fake scientist like _Henry Jekyll_. It was confusing. It was mind boggling.

It was seriously pissing her off.

"Now, what seems to be the problem—"

"LISTEN HERE, YOU PATHETIC INDUSTRIALIST _**SLUT**_ —!!!" 

_"Alright, I'm back, what'd I miss- what the fuck, Frankenstein—?"_


	5. Uncomfortabley Familiar

  
_"God dammit, Vic..."_

_Creature sat, bound in chains, in a moldy cell in Moreau's basement. He sighed again, frustrated, and let his head fall back, hitting the wall with a dull thud._

_Thik._

_"....what?" Creature blinked, confused. He waited, then, a bit cautious, knocked on the wall._

_Thok thok thok._

_..._

_Thik thik thik._

_"Hello?" Creature called out, feeling on edge. Was it one of those hideous hybrids Moreau let roam the place? They made his skin crawl. They were like him, but instead of being carefully crafted and given intelligence, they were broken, falling apart, and—_

_"Hullo."_

* * *

Henry fidgeted, silently pouring different liquids together as he made Frankenstein's medicine. The old woman was staring at him. Everytime he tilted his head, her eyes widened, a look of brief concern in her eyes. She watched him like a hawk, and it made him nervous. He almost missed her yelling and cussing and insults. 

"...so, I'm sure you'll want to tell me how poor of a scientist I am when you drink this—"

"You're incredible."

Henry nearly dropped the vial. He stared at her, shocked, and struggled to get his thoughts together. This woman, who had tried to punch him in the face, who had done nothing but insult him, who had convinced the Lodgers to drop out of the exhibition... had just called him... incredible.

"I... w-what?" A pair of strong hands suddenly grasped his thin wrists, holding them firmly. He jolted, expecting to be struck, but all he got were watery blue eyes staring at him with adoration.

"You're incredible," She breathed, looking over his face. He wasn't sure if she looked more like a mother seeing her baby for the first time or like one of the Lodgers when they found a new, unusual specimen. He settled on seeing it as an odd mix of the two, which automatically made him uneasy. It was the same face Moreau made towards him. 

A large green hand rested on the old woman's shoulder, and when she looked up she was met with a disapproving head shake from her creation. She let go of Henry's wrists, smiling awkwardly. Henry, thoroughly freaked out, handed her the vial, got up, and left without even staying to make sure she drank it.

 _"The hell was that all about?"_ Hyde rumbled, his voice echoing in Henry's head as the ball of green flames cozied up against his heart. Henry almost risked a response when he bumped into somebody. He stumbled, a hand flying up to grip his throat and keep his head in place. He steadied himself, then looked up at a familiar six foot albino Lodger holding partially invisible cat.

"Ah, Griffin," He greeted, noticing the way the other's face redden. He was probably irritated at being bumped into. Henry looked at the cat, and he felt an odd twinge in his gut. Its head was currently invisible, making it seem genuinely headless. The fact it was moving and scratching at an invisible ear proved that wasn't the case, but still, Henry felt an odd sort of.. fondness, perhaps, towards the 'headless' feline. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I must have been lost in my own head. I see Marigold is having quite the adventure today." Griffin groaned as Henry carefully pet at the cat's invisible head.

"She got into a prototype. Again. I swear, how she isn't dead yet is beyond me," The other grumbled. Henry chuckled, the red on Griffin's cheeks darkening at the sound.

"Well, cat's _do_ have nine lives," Henry quipped, and the disapparative biochemist felt his heart skip a beat when those sparkling red eyes landed on him. He gulped, then stammered, "W-Well, if you'll excuse me, Doctor, I need to get to the chemistry lab so Miss Ito can help me fix this. That new lad will have a right fit if he sees a headless animal, I'm sure." And with that, he hurried past, flustered and unbelievably awkward. Henry watched him go, concerned and a little confused.

_"Again, I feel the need to ask; the hell was that all about?"_


	6. A Fated Interruption

"...a vacation?"

Robert nodded, looking proud of himself. Henry could only stare blankly at his friend over the large stack of paperwork he was currently in the process of filling out.

"Robert, let me get this straight," Henry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You want to take me to the Scottish countryside for three days, at a time where we are desperately trying to get the Lodgers back on board for the exhibit, because you think the 'foul London air has damaged my lungs'?" Robert's confidence hadn't wavered once during that entire tirade, and Henry started to get the foreboding feeling that he wasn't going to win this one.

"Henry, you were literally coughing up blood! Clearly you need fresh air, and I mean actual fresh air, not the smog we try so desperately to convince ourselves is breathable," Robert rolled his eyes as he spoke, strolling over to Henry's desk. He picked up the paperwork and set it aside, much to the Scotsman's disdain. "My mother's family has a lovely little vacation home in the countryside, and grandmother has been begging me to come for a visit anyways, so you may as well come with. We can ride up to Glasgow and explore the city if we get bored with the country view."

"By little do you mean 'Jekyll little' or 'Lanyon little'?" Robert snorted at the jab, and shook his head with exasperation. 

"Alright, well, maybe not little by normal standards, but it's not like I expect you to explore every last acre of the property," Henry looked smug at Robert's confession, earning a shove to the shoulder. Normally, that would result in him hastily grabbing at his throat to keep his head on, but Robert had come to understand Henry didn't like being shoved harshly, and as such was very light in his banter and playful gestures. "Besides, you always love to see new places, don't you? Aren't you excited to see Glasgow?"

And with that, it finally set in. Glasgow. A small cottage overlooking the river, hot baths, and the happy squeals of a child as a bushy-bearded scientist scooped him up, laughing. Henry blinked, throat thick, and it took a few seconds for him to realize Robert was gripping his shoulder, brown eyes filled with concern. 

"Henry?" The older doctor asked as he reached out, dabbing a handkerchief across his cheek. When had he started crying? He swallowed a few times, forcing himself to calm down before he started bleeding again. 

"I.. I'd rather not go to Glasgow, Robert," He said softly, closing his eyes tightly as Edward crackled in his chest, the flame clearly wanting to spring out defensively in response to Henry's tears. He prayed his friend wouldn't push. Luckily, Robert realized the subject was a painful one for him, and left it alone.

"Alright, the countryside will just.. have to be entertaining, then. Come on, I'll help you pack. ... no, you cannot bring your paperwork!"

"Robeeerrt!!"

* * *

And that's how Henry found himself in a coach heading out to the Scottish countryside, wedged awkwardly between his best friend and—

"I would rather be back in that damn attic you call a bedroom than sitting inside this stuffy carriage."

Robert turned his head, glaring at the old woman. If it weren't for her health and general knack for causing trouble, they would have left her behind, but alas, it was a necessity to bring Frankenstein with them.

"You are going to be polite to my grandmother, you miserable hag," The aristocrat growled, pointing at her accusingly as if she'd already insulted the aforementioned old woman. "She's recently been widowed and she does not need the added stress that you will inevitably bring her!" Frankenstein glowered back, then smirked, all teeth and threats showing in the grin.

"Give it enough time and I'll have you calling me granny, too," She sneered, causing Robert to squawk with indignation. The entire time, Henry sat stiffly between them, staring at Creature across from him miserably. The patchwork giant could only shrug with an equally uncomfortable look. Luckily for the Dullahan, the coach abruptly stopped with a harsh lurch followed by a sharp jolt. The horses were screaming and rearing back, it seemed, if the poor driver's distressed barking was anything to go by. 

For some reason, the sound of the spooked equines tugged at Henry's gut, twisting it and tearing at it. With every nervous stamp of a hoof or whinnying cry the feeling grew worse, and suddenly, he was getting out, ignoring the other three questioning him and Edward's murmured confusion. He approached the driver's side, and the man paused when he saw the look of genuine upset that crossed Henry's face at the sight of the frightened animals. Henry tugged off his gloves, reaching out.

"Ah, sir! Hold on a moment!" The driver yelped, reaching out as if to pull the alchemist back. "Old Marian isn't the friendliest of horses, if you touch her she'll—" The moment his pale fingers rested on the glossy dappled coat, the mare turned to look at him. He tucked his gloves into his pocket, then reached his other hand up to run over her snout. Within seconds, she was calm, content with the petting, and even nosing at him impatiently when he stopped stroking her grey fur to move to the younger chestnut beside her. The same thing happened, and soon both horses were perfectly relaxed, sniffing at this new being they trusted implicitly. Henry himself seemed calmer now that the horses weren't distressed, petting them adoringly.

"...by God," The driver murmured, pulling his cap off and scratching at his balding head. "Marian's never let anyone but me and my wife soothe her. She bites every stranger she meets. And most young stallions don't take very well to 'em either. Yet you've got Peter practically eating out of the palm of your hand." Indeed, the chestnut was mushing at Henry's palm, confused and huffy about the lack of treats. Henry chuckled, brushing his fingers over the stallion's cheek. With notable reluctance, he stepped back, red eyes fond.

"I just.. like horses, I guess," He shrugged at the driver's awe. "And they've always seemed to like me in return. What happened anyway? To scare them, I mean."

"Ah, a runaway from a farm near here, I presume," The man replied. "A black mare ran across the road. She must have just moved too quickly for them, surprised the two is all." A few more words of thanks were given before Henry stepped back into the coach. He blinked when he found the other three staring at him.

"..what?" Robert could only shake his head as his friend got comfortable once more. Henry Jekyll had always been a bit of a strange one, especially around horses. Practically having forgotten it already, Robert engaged Henry in some casual banter. As the two spoke, Frankenstein and Creature shared a knowing look between each other. The coach began moving once more, and the four fell back into their odd combination of awkward silence and incessant bickering.


	7. A Poorly-Thought-Out Joy Ride

To say things weren't going well right now was a bit of an understatement.

Frankenstein, true to her word, had immediately taken to charming Robert's grandmother, and much to his horror, the two seemed to be hitting it off. This had sparked an overprotective outburst from the surgeon, who was now bickering the resurrectionist for flirting with his grandmother, the old woman watching the two with amusement. Creature was subjected to staying close by to keep his creator under control, and Henry decided that he should take Robert's advice and go get some fresh air. Alone. Far, far away from all this chaos and tense atmosphere. Maybe he should go explore every acre of the property afterall.

Much to Edward's delight and Henry's chagrin, part of the property was an expansive wetland, where the doctor had to tread carefully or risk getting his foot caught in the murk. 

_"Isn't this fun, Henry?"_ His other chirped from inside his chest, and the Scot rolled his eyes. Of course the blond would find tramping through treacherous terrain entertaining.

"About as fun as trying not to drown in mud usually is," He quipped back, only to immediately trip on something. He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself before he fell face first into the cloudy water. For once, his stilts masquerading as legs came in handy; usually, his gangly limbs only made his falls worse. He turned to see what he had struck his foot on, expecting a branch or a root, only to jump a little. "Oh.. poor thing.."

It was the skeleton of a stag, a young one by the looks of it. It was old enough to be picked clean, but not so old it was covered in moss or any other signs of weathering. It must have gotten stuck in the marsh and either died of exhaustion or fallen prey to the elements. A sudden compulsion seized hold of him, and the next thing he knew he was grabbing the spine of the animal and pulling. Surprisingly, it popped free easily, no ribs or chunks attached. It was unusually flexible, hanging down almost like a whip. It felt.. right, to be holding this. Other than being a tad damp, it fit comfortably in his slender grasp, the part he was holding feeling almost like a handle. At Edward's urging, he flicked it, almost dropping it, startled at the satisfying 'crack!' it made in the chilly air. An odd buzzing feeling tickled his skin, a sense of pride entering his chest at the simple action of snapping the spine like a whip.

It was at that moment he heard a panicked whinny. 

Henry snapped his head up, looking about as that feeling from earlier in the coach clenched at his insides once more. There. A young mare with fur as black as tar, likely the one that had spooked the coach horses earlier, was struggling, her hooves caught in the mud. If she kept this up, she would exhaust herself and only get stuck worse. Henry quickly made up his mind to help if he could, hurrying over. 

"Easy, easy!" He tried to calm the animal as he tucked the hilt of the deer's spine into his belt. The mare calmed, but only enough to stop thrashing, still obviously skittish. Henry smiled softly, standing next to her now. She was massive, her side reaching just above Henry's eyes. He reached out to stroke her neck soothingly, murmuring, "See? I'm not going to hurt—"

His hand stuck to the dark fur like glue. The mare immediately stopped shivering, turning her head, and there was something terrifying in the way she looked at him. She removed her hooves from the mud with little to no effort. Edward barely had time to shriek, _"Kelpie!!"_ , before the creature bolted, dragging Henry, forcing him to run alongside her. He held onto his head, terrified of losing it in such a flooded area, only to feel a spike of fear course through him as he saw the large lake up ahead. The kelpie was going to drown him.

Just as this thought entered his mind, the feeling in his gut shifted. As if on autopilot, he let go of his own hair to tangle his fingers into the kelpie's mane. He swung himself up onto its back with ease, though predictably the movement knocked his head loose. He wrenched his stuck hand free, startling the kelpie with this unexpected turn of events, and grabbed hold of his head by the hair. He held it tight to his abdomen, yanking the kelpie's mane, causing the mare to stop, rearing back. She was trying to knock him loose, bucking and rearing, but somehow he stayed on effortlessly, as if made to ride a wild beast like herself. He dug in with his knees to keep himself seated, grabbed the spine still lodged in his belt, and whipped it up into the air.

As the crack rung out the kelpie reared one final time, front legs kicking as she whinnied. Her hooves slammed down into the mud, just on the edge of the lake. Henry was breathing just as hard as she was, heart pounding, green flame roaring from his neck. The fire slowly died down as Edward began to calm. Something inside of Henry slid into place, as if he was finally whole. The whip, the kelpie, and Edward blazing from his neck made him feel complete. An almost euphoric sensation washed over him, and a grin spread across his face, still nestled comfortably in his lap. The grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear, showing off the oddly sharp canines and molars he possessed. 

"Edward," He found himself saying, red eyes sparkling. It was quickly growing dark out, not unexpected with the cold weather, and the stars felt as if they were shining extra bright for the occasion. "I must be going crazy.. because all I want to do right now is—"

_"Ride as fast we can throughout the countryside?"_

".... _God_ , yes."

A crack rung out once more, and they were off. The kelpie's hooves thundered along, and when they reached a stone path, the force of them striking the ground caused sparks to flare up. Edward's green inferno roared back into a frenzy, as wild and untamed as the mare Henry was sat upon. A gate came up ahead, but where Henry would normally feel the need to stop to avoid a nasty impact, he instead smirked, cracking the whip in the air once more, urging his newfound mount to increase in speed. The kelpie happily abliged, seeming just as pleased with her unexpected rider as he was with her. As they neared the gate, it burst open without being touched, as if frightened into parting at the mere sight of the duo (trio, if one knew the flames were actually a seperate entity named Edward Hyde). 

Looking back, riding through a town at late dusk when there were likely still people awake was the worst thing he could have done, but in the moment the sound of the kelpie's hooves hitting the cobblestone drowned out any common sense he could have had. It was an adrenaline rush like no other, and when he reached a bronze statue of a man riding atop a rearing horse, he couldn't help but halt his steed, laughing with pure joy as she reared back, mimicking the shiny gold-brown figures in the middle of the town. When her hooves touched back down, he raised his whip, ready to strike the air and take off once more, only to freeze. The smile slowly slid off his face as he finally got a good look at the metal rider, replaced with stunned shock.

The rider was headless, a snarling head tucked under one arm, the other raised in the air with a menacing whip that looked disturbingly like a human spine. He stared, nudging the kelpie to walk closer. Edward's flames grew brighter with awe. He tucked the hilt of the spine into his belt, reaching out with a trembling hand. He pressed his palm to the cool metal, red eyes wide.

* * *

Abigail Smith was by no means the adventerous type. No, she preferred to spend her days safely tucked away in her father's shop, hammering glowing hot metals into tools and weapons and other useful things. The young blacksmith would then end her day at dusk, head inside, wash up, eat supper, and then go to bed so she could wake up early and get back to doing what she loved. Sadly, a rather snooty old nobleman had barged into the shop, demanding a complicated order finished by tomorrow, and they were the only traditional blacksmith shop left that he knew of, and he wanted the novelty of a traditionally smithed item, and blah blah blah. So, poor Abigail didn't get done working until the sky was already dark and filled with stars. She was just about to head off to bed, maybe not even bother washing up, when she heard a faint cracking sound like a whip, and thunderous, rumbling hoofbeats.

Now, again, Abigail Smith was not the adventurous type, but when the cracking and hoofbeats grew louder, the tragic phenomenon known as 'human curiosity' gripped hold of her, and she couldn't help but step out of her shop. She turned the corner into the town center and nearly fainted at the sight of a headless rider on a black horse, cackling and cracking what she could only assume was a human spine like a whip. She watched as he suddenly paused, tucking his whip away and reaching out to touch the statue that commemorated that time long ago when the townsfolk rallied together and hunted down the last Dullahan nearby, killing the demon right in the middle of the town's center, right where the statue now stood. The green flame from his neck brightened with rage, and it finally clicked in her head that there was a Dullahan right in front of her.

Another well-known fact about Abigail smith was that she had a voice that could make the gods pause in their discussions to listen to what she had to say. As such, she had a scream that could wake the dead, no matter how long ago they were laid to rest. So, when she saw the murderous, beheading demon in front of her, what else was she to do but succumb to fear and scream?

Within seconds, the wicked spirit was surrounded on all sides by angry townsfolk, and it was then and only then that Abigail saw the young face on that severed head, and her stomach began to sink as she recognized the expression on his face; 

Pure terror.


	8. Mistaken Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomit, blood, implied/mentioned water torture, usual Dullahan body-horror

"Be back soon, dearest!" Robert resisted the urge to slam the door as his grandmother called out, all snuggled up with Frankenstein on the couch. He'd always suspected his grandmother wasn't strict in her romantic preferences, mostly because she'd been so accepting of him when, at sixteen, he broke down sobbing and confessed he was homosexual. He wished now more than ever he'd been wrong; he couldn't bare the thought of that insufferable hag becoming his new grandmother! Or.. step-grandmother? He wasn't sure of the terminology, but whatever it was, he didn't want the position to be filled by Frankenstein.

He stormed out into the fields, intending to just head down to the sleepy little river by the woods and cool his temper before he upset his grandmother. He sat on a large rock, sighing, and propped his chin up in his hands. He sat there for a while, then finally opened his bag, pulling out a sketchbook. It was a skill he lept secret due to years of being shamed for it as a child. It was only in his teens that his grandmother caught him drawing and, right under his father's nose, encouraged his talent, buying him art supplies and teaching him different techniques. 

A blush tinted his pudgy cheeks as he opened the book, biting his lip with guilt. A sketch of his dearest friend lay on the very front page, his head slightly tilted back, laughing hard. They'd both been tipsy, and Robert had told a joke, likely crass in nature, and Henry had cracked up at it. Everytime Henry laughed, Robert wanted to just snap his fingers and turn the image into a painting right there on the spot. Sadly, he couldn't, so he settled for drawing it from memory. The next page was more simple stuff, just some scenery and nature sketches. A few pages of scientific diagrams were next, and after that a page filled with pressed flowers and intricate pen swirls. 

Of course, there were more drawings of Henry, as well, part of the reason the alchemist was never allowed in Robert's bag, ever, lest he find the art journal and get too curious. The aristocrat might actually have to drink arsenic if that ever happened, he would be so embarrassed and never able to look Henry in the eye again. That being said, Henry was nowhere near him at the moment, probabky exploring the property, so when he opened to a fresh page, hand twitching, he let his heart decide what would go there.

By the time he'd finished drawing a detailed scene of Henry when he'd calmed the horses on their way here, it was dark. He blinked, surprised. He groaned, rubbing his temples; the creator's curse had struck again. His grandmother had jokingly told him that those who create often forget about the world around them, doing small things without noticing as they focused on their work. He had responded back that it made sense, seeing as it took God seven days to remember to take a break and rest. She'd laughed, which had been nice since a joke like that usually left him with a sore ear or nose (damn it for being so long, like it was begging his father to pinch it when displeased with the boy). 

"I can't believe I actually lit a candle without noticing," Robert grumbled to himself , picking up his soft light source. He paused, looking at the way it shone on the paper, and felt a bitter longing in his heart. He bet the real Henry would look twice as beautiful under the glow of a candle's light. He shook his head to clear it, huffing at his own silly thoughts. He'd long since come to terms with and accepted who he was, but that didn't mean he needed to act like some lovestruck schoolgirl. He looked up at the moon, murmuring softly to himself, "Then again, I am quite lovestruck, aren't I?" 

Upon noticing how bright it was, he blew out the candle. It was nice knowing it wouldn't be necessary; he didn't necessarily feel like sprinting back to the house in an attempt to avoid hot wax hitting his skin. It was pleasant to just relax and enjoy the scenery along the way, and as he tucked his sketchbook away, he couldn't help a small smile as he thought of Henry waiting for him back at his grandmother's house. Despite it being dark out, the stars beginning to twinkle, that foolish doctor would likely be staying up late to wait for Robert. He was just polite and sweet like that.

He turned to head down the path back home, then blinked, furrowing his brow. There was a star off in the distance that seemed... odd. Like it was moving. As his eyes adjusted better to the darkness, he realized it wasn't a star, and that was about when he heard the thundering of hooves. He gasped, freezing in place, as a black horse with a terrifying rider made of green flame slid to a halt in front of him. It turned it's head, two piercing yellow splotches where eyes would be on a human face baring into his soul. Robert dropped the candle on the ground, brown eyes wide and face pale. 

"...is.. is this it?" He found himself asking softly, for he had no doubt in his mind what he was looking at. He looked back at the rock he'd been sitting on, but it was a good few feet away now, and the figure's light had made his eyes poor to the darkness once more. He turned back to face the spectre, shaking, tears welling up in his eyes. "H.. how? How did it happen? I.. I was just sitting... was I sick?" The being made of fire tilted its head, confused, as Robert continued to brokenly whisper, "I.. I-I wasn't.. I didn't think it would happen so soon.. I.. o-oh, god, Henry.. he'll be devastated."

Fed up and impatient, a firey hand reached out, and Robert took a step back instinctively. He swallowed hard, then, with a defeated look, started to place his hand in its.

"I never got to tell him I love him," He protested weakly, allowing it to pull him up onto the horse's back. The creature looked at him, then urged the mare into action. It wasn't until they'd arrived at a run down inn on the outskirts of a nearby village that Robert came to the sudden realization that this probably wasn't Death come to claim his mortal soul. Unless someone else had just died in the slowly decaying building, and this was only a quick stop to grab another passenger before continuing on to the Afterlife.

It grabbed his arm, tugging him down, then held up a flickering finger to a set of invisible lips, the flames hissing slightly. Be quiet. Robert felt a pit settle in his stomach as it crept forward, tugging him along, and as they grew closer he could hear voices inside. They sounded entertained in the way a serial killer is entertained by his victim's fear. The pit in his stomach only grew tighter as he was silently led inside. He wanted to run, but he had a feeling whatever this thing was wouldn't let him take off if it had gone through all the trouble of bringing him here. They slipt passed a room with its door ajar, and through the crack Robert could see a group of men huddled in a circle, laughing roughly. They reminded him of some school bullies back in his younger days, how they would gather around in a group and torture some poor animal to death just for fun. The sound of something being dunked in water, lifted, cussed and jeered at, and dunked again didn't help the uneasy feeling in his chest. 

They continued on until they reached a room at the end of the hallway, the coppery scent of blood thick in the air. Robert felt something jolt inside him, and he pulled back, resisting this entity made of lashing green light. He did not want to go in that room. Something in his gut was screaming at him that he'd never unsee whatever was inside. The thing glared at him, tugging on his wrist, and Robert shook his head, wide-eyed. Fed up, it grabbed him by the collar and threw him inside, the door nearly banging against the wall if the monster hadn't caught the edge of it. Robert started to get up and lifted his head, then immediately felt the blood go cold in his veins.

"Nnn.. nnNN-" He couldn't open his mouth. He wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to do something. Anything. But all he could do was make soft, gagged noises in the back of his throat as he began to shake violently. "Ghnmng-! Nnn-n-nnnhhHhHHH—!!!" He threw his head down, heaving, and unsurprisingly began to vomit. The being ignored him, rushing over to the body.

He recognized those clothes. He'd let Henry borrow that coat just this morning since his had been damaged by one of Jasper's pets. He remembered how he had looked the younger doctor over, trying not to blush at how cute he'd looked with Robert's coat on him, just a tad too big for his lanky frame. The thought felt poisoned and tainted now, shredded into pieces. In fact, every memory he had of Henry was now shattering apart, and as he got up, stumbling to the corpse chained to support beam, he felt as if his entire world was burning to ash. His trembling hands lifted, almost as if to stop everything from crumbling through his fingers, and slowly, shakily cupped the headless cadaver's bloodied neck.

The firey spectre jumped when Robert suddenly let out a loud, agonized scream. It grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him frantically as a commotion started in the other room, heavy feet rushing towards the door. Robert looked up at it, brown eyes wide and haunted. A look of realization entered them, and he brokenly murmured, "Henry?" Had he been led here by the man's ghost? To see what had become of him before his murder could be covered up? His train of thought was derailed as the door slammed against the wall. Robert spun around and nearly threw up again at the sight of his beloved Henry's decapitated head, dripping a mixture of water and blood, clutched by the hair. He slowly looked up at the tall brute holding it, and intense rage spread rapidly over his face.

Henry's panicked cry of, "Robert!?", was drowned out by the surgeon's ear-piercing shriek of anger as he lunged at the Scotsman's 'killer', fully intending to murder him.


	9. A Discovery of the Dullahan Variety

"You fucking bas—!!"

Henry felt his heartrate jump as Robert was punched directly in the face. The man hit the ground, feebly pushing himself up and staggering to his feet. Robert swayed, brown eyes unfocused and nose gushing blood, then raised his fists, getting into his boxer's stance and shaking his head a bit, eyes clearing. Henry felt his stomach sink; Robert may have been professionally trained, but these men were massive, thick armed and brutal. Robert was quick, but if they got ahold of him, they could snap his spine just by squeezing his waist hard enough.

Luckily, Edward was currently made of fire, and thus had no bones to worry about. The little spitfire rushed the men, causing them to jump back, fearful of being burnt. When he threw a lamp to the floor and lit the spilt oil on fire by stepping on it, he became quite the problem for the men, and it wasn't long until Henry yelped as his head was dropped, the men scrambling to get away from the enraged spirit. Edward briefly looked at Robert and pointed urgently towards Henry's body, and the aristocrat stumbled to it, tears slipping down his face as he tugged at the ropes. He spotted the whip nailed to a nearby wall, and after a bit of tugging, wrenched it loose. He swung it, the bone stiff and cumbersome in his grasp, but surprisingly it got the job done, slicing through the bindings with ease.

Robert dropped it, eyes nearly bulging out of his skull with shock, as Henry's 'corpse' immediately sprang into action. It snatched up the whip, the spine turning flexible and precise upon contact, and swung it. It cut through the supporting beam, and the decaying roof gave an ominous creak. The headless cadaver grabbed hold of Robert's arm, rushing towards the door as their assailants scrambled and panicked. Robert caught sight of Henry's head and snatched it up, feeling it might be important. 

They burst out of the room just as the ceiling collapsed, trapping three of the men inside. Four of the larger ones managed to break free of the rubble, enraged, and Edward hastily leapt back into Henry's neck, too exhausted from assuming a full form to keep up otherwise. Henry kept running, barking orders as Robert clutched the Scot's head to his chest. They rushed out of the building, and Henry leapt up onto the kelpie. He pulled Robert up and cracked the whip in the air. The mare kicked one of the pursuing brutes in the chest when he got too close, then sped away.

Robert kept his arms wrapped tightly around Henry's chest, the alchemist's head now being held by the man himself, lifting his arm to get a better vantage point. When they reached a small stream, the kelpie slowed to a halt. Robert slid off, stumbling and ultimately falling to his knees as Henry gracefully swung his legs over the kelpie's back, landing on his feet without so much as jolt. He pet her mane for a few seconds, neck bowed and head held close to his chest. He knew he was just delaying the inevitable.

Finally, with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he turned to look down at his lifelong friend. Robert stared back, brown eyes wide, glued to Henry's severed head.

"...I'm sorry," Henry began softly, causing Robert to jump a bit, brain still caught up on the fact Henry's head was detached. "I'm sorry I never told you. I.. I should have. I shouldn't have lied to you all these years. I.. I thought you would hate me if you knew I was—"

"A Dullahan," Robert breathed, awe spreading across his shocked face. Henry blinked, confused and bewildered, and opened his mouth to question him, only to yelp as Robert rushed him. Robert snatched up his head, tilting it to see the bottom, shivering at the sight.

"H-Hey!! Robert—!!"

"I can't believe this, you're supposed to be dead!" The surgeon sounded delighted that that fact was apparently disproven. "I've always wanted to see a Dullahan! Where did you come from? Are there others? How many of you are there left?" Robert paused as Henry snatched his head back, looking a bit miffed and flustered. Robert blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Oh.. sorry. Are only certain people allowed to hold a Dullahan's head? I didn't—"

"What the hell are you going on about!?" Henry blurted out, starting to get a headache. Well, more of one; having your head forced into a bucket of water repeatedly doesn't exactly leave you refreshed and ready to answer a million questions. "What the hell is a.. what'd you say? Doo-a-hayn?" Robert cringed, correcting, "Dewl-la-hahn. It's.. it's what you are, Henry. Did.. didn't you know that..?"

Henry stood there, eyes wide, and Robert felt something hallow settle in his stomach as he murmured, "Oh my god.. all this time.. you've never known, have you?"


	10. Trouble in Paradise

"H-Henry, wait, I didn't mean it like that—!!"

Creature cringed as he heard the sound of lanky legs stumbling hastily up the stairs, followed by the slam of a door. He looked over at the two elderly women, relieved when they didn't wake up, before getting up to investigate. He came across Robert Lanyon, standing with one foot on the bottom step of the staircase, looking up them with a forlorn and stressed expression. The patchwork monster raised an eyebrow at the sight of Robert's bleeding nose, clearing his throat to get his attention. The surgeon whipped around, then relaxed, though he instantly straightened up. Creature rolled his eyes, and, thankfully, the young aristocrat dropped the 'prim and proper' act. 

"What happened?" The green behemoth questioned. Robert looked away, guilt in his eyes, and mumbled, "I said something stupid and harmful because I thought I knew more than he did. Just like I always do.." He trailed off, before wordlessly heading up to his own room, dragging his feet. Creature watched him go, yellow eyes a bit concerned, but mostly just exasperated. 

Meanwhile, Henry was pacing the guest room, a towel around his neck to catch the blood dribbling down it. Edward was in his head form, watching him, and scowling.

"Don't listen to that prat, Henry," He scoffed. "What does he know? History is written by the victors, and more often than not, the victors villainize the other side." Henry sighed, hugging his head to his chest.

"Still.. what if he's right? What if.. what if I am just some beheading demon?" He sat down on the bed, pulling Edward close. "It's bad enough I was made by Moreau.. now Robert's told me I'm some horrific, murderous spirit?" He hugged his knees to his chest, his head cocooned snuggly against his torso. "I wish I never heard the word 'Dullahan' at all.."

"Well, you've never wanted to behead anyone before. That's got to count for something, right?"

"Edward, the minute I had a whip in my hand and a horse, I took off across the countryside despite never having the desire to do that before," Henry countered, and Edward cringed a little. "What if... what if when I'm riding along a road, and I see someone... w-what if it's instinctive? I don't want to kill anyone!" 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down," The blond reprimanded him. "I know you, Henry. You couldn't hurt a fly. Hell, I'd say you need to be more violent, with how often you let rich pricks walk all over you." Henry huffed, slightly amused by the jab. Sensing it was working, Edward continued. "I mean, do you even have the hand-eye coordination for beheading? You walk into your own bedroom door at least twice a week."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Henry laughed, uncurling his legs and nestling Edward's head next to his own in his lap. The blond kissed his cheek, and he rolled his red eyes with another huff. "Oh, you're such a pain~"

"True," Edward snickered. His green eyes grew affectionate as he added, "But I'm your pain." Henry snorted, laughing at his words.

"You sound like a romance novel," He teased, standing up with both of them in his arms. "Come on, let's get ready for bed." He stepped into the guest bathroom, feeling better, unaware of a pair of glowing red eyes peering in through the room's window. They were wide, and their owner uttered a soft cuss of disbelief before slipping down out of sight.


	11. Kiss and Make Up

"Henry, you can't hide in there all week!"

"I'm afraid your theory doesn't hold true, sir!!"

Robert huffed, then smirked. He sighed dramatically, turning as if to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "Alright, guess all these sweets will just have to be given to Frankenstein and her monster, then." Within seconds he heard the door open and felt a shy tug on his sleeve. Robert turned around looking smug, and Henry scowled at him, before grumbling, "You have until I finish that platter you're holding to convince me." Robert grinned, stepping into the room and setting the tray down. Henry took a tentative seat on the bed, reaching for the tray, only to make a noise of protest as Robert pulled it out of reach.

"I know how quickly you can wolf down biscuits, Henry Jekyll, and I have something I need to say before you kick me out," The surgeon lectured him, holding it out of reach as Henry's thin arms stretched out for it. He'd never admit it, but having Henry press his chest to his side trying to grab the desserts made his heart thump and flutter like a moth trapped behind glass, even though the door was wide open for it to fly through. "What I want to say first and foremost is; I'm sorry." Henry paused in his attempts to snatch at the plate of biscuits, red eyes flicking to Lanyon's before looking away again. "Will you promise to let me apologize properly, even if you finish eating before I'm done?"

"...fine," Robert handed Henry the tray with a relieved smile, watching him bite into a biscuit with a frown on his face. Robert cleared his throat, then began with a repeat, "I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have said what I did," He continued. He looked genuinely ashamed, and Henry paused in his nervous snacking to pay better attention. "I was just repeating what I'd been taught. It likely isn't true; I mean, what are the odds an entire species - race, sorry, you're not an animal - could be evil? The stories were likely warped, and now that I think about it, I can't remember ever having seen any legitimate cases of beheading during that time frame." Henry made a brief noise of irritation as Robert snatched a hiscuit for himself, but it felt more like their usual playful teasing than legitimate annoyance. "So, I'm sorry for speaking so boldly on a subject I vaguely remember from my school days. If you say you would never behead someone, I believe you. I mean, you walk into your own door, what? Three times a day?"

"Oh, not you too," Henry grumbled as Edward snickered in his chest, flames warming with amusement. Robert looked over, confused, and asked, "What?" Henry blushed, waving it off with a quick, "Nothing, nothing, just flustered by that little comment." He elbowed Robert lightly, earning a laugh, and he started to smile. He was relieved to know things wouldn't change. Sure, Robert might have some new jokes up his sleeves, but they would still be friends. He ate another biscuit, then noticed Robert looking at him. He cracked a smile, playfully starting to ask, "What? You're looking at me like I've lost my–"

"Can I hold it? You're head, I mean?" 

Henry felt his face heat up, and he managed a nervous, "U-Um, sure.. sure, yeah, let me just.." He undid the bandages around his neck and took his head off. Robert hesitated, unnerved, then carefully placed his hands on Henry's cheeks, his fingers helping support the back of his head. He was gentle in his movements as he tilted and turned Henry's head this way and that, and the Scot found himself blushing a bit harder. It was quiet in the room aside from the occassional breathless comment of wonder from the surgeon, and suddenly, as Robert moved his head to examine his neck, it felt much too intimate to ignore. Robert leveled him again, now just holding him at eye level. There was something searching in those warm brown eyes, and Henry found himself fidgeting as he sat next to his friend. Robert stroked his thumbs over the Dullahan's cheeks, noticing how warm and pink they were, and bit his lip.

"Robert..." Henry breathed softly as he felt himself pulled a bit closer, Robert leaning in. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard it was probably rattling Edward, and a bit of green flame left his throat to dance antsily on his neck stump. Robert tilted his head, eyes flicking from Henry's ruby gaze to his lips. Henry's hands twisted in his lap, playing with his fingers nervously. Was Robert doing what he thought he was doing? Was he really going to-?

Henry's mind went blank, eye's wide, as a pair of soft lips pressed against his own. Edward's sharp inhale rung in his head, and when Robert pulled back (too fast, that kiss was too brief, no, he wanted another, wanted him to come back), he was met with a bright red face and a starry-eyed stare. Blushing, the older doctor looked away, beginning to mumble apologies, only to whip his head back around to stare at Henry in surprise as he softly implored, "K.. Kiss me again?" 

"...y.. yes.. yes, I'll- r-right, yes, of course," He stammered, pulling Henry close once more, kissing him again. This time he lingered, and both men let their eyes flutter shut, Henry hesitantly wrapping his arms around his friend. Robert's heart was soaring. The moth in his chest had finally noticed the open door, or maybe it had stumbled upon it by accident, or perhaps, and this idea was his favourite, perhaps the owner of the house was a kind-hearted Scot who noticed the struggling little thing, had coaxed it onto his finger, walked it to the door, and gently blown on its wings to convince it to take flight. Whatever the case, he was free, and he was kissing Henry fucking Jekyll, and honestly if he died right now or sometime soon, he would die a happy man, because kissing Henry was the best feeling in the world. 

"I love you," He whispered when they pulled apart for air, and he loved the way Henry lit up at that. "I have for some time now. Henry, can.. can I court you? Properly? I-It would have to be discreet, yes, but.. I don't want this to be some little fling or affair. I want it to mean something."

"Robert Lanyon," Henry murmured. "If you proposed to me right now I'd say yes. I've wanted to be with you since college." Robert laughed a bit, an ecstatic sound, like a stranded man stumbling upon a cruise ship, and he kissed him again, then again, and then he was laying down, smothering Henry in a flurry of kisses, both men laughing and giggling between each one. His body had it's arms wrapped around the both of them, and Edward's fire crackled warmly, feeling content as he watched his other smile and laugh and kiss his long time crush. He supposed he should be jealous, but then again, he was always going to be closer to Henry than anyone else, so why should he be? No, this was a good thing, and besides, the older headless fae looked positively adorable when he was being kissed breathless like that.


	12. An Even Closer Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, heart problems, panic attacks, Dullahan related d body-horror

"U-Um.. Robert? I'm not too sure about this–"

"Oh, relax," The Brit rolled his eyes, looking down at Henry, holding his head carefully. "Whatever happened to 'I'd do snything for science'? You'll be fine, Henry, it isn't like I'm trying to lob your head across the pond." 

"Oh, God, I hope not," Henry quipped, trying to distract himself. "I've only met a few Americans, but all of them were insufferable." Robert looked confused, then scowled as the joke clicked.

"You and your damn double-meanings," He huffed, stroking Henry's cheek absentmindedly. He straightened back up, holding him a little tighter to his chest. Henry frowned, leaning the back of his head further into Robert's vest. The man smiled with fond exasperation, then grinned and turned, casually strolling away from Henry's body. Edward watched them go, an uncomfortable feeling squeezing him in his place in Henry's chest.

* * *

"–and that is why I think you should give Doddle more restrictions."

Henry laughed, comfortably nestled in Robert's arms.

"Perhaps, or maybe I should Robert-proof the kitchen," The Scot teased, and his friend's warm brown face flushed a nice shade of red that tugged a smirk onto Henry's face.

"Well, yes, okay, I did eat cakes that were very clearly not intended for me, but I've caught you doing much worse, you pastry thief!" Robert chuckled, looking up at the trees above them. This little path in the forest had always seemed magical to him as a child, and with the way the sun shone through the leaves, he could almost let himself fall back into that old wonder. It was even and only had a few twists and turns, the perfect place to test if distance between Henry's body and his head mattered.

He felt something odd settle in his stomach, like something was wrong. He frowned, and just as he was about to look down and ask Henry if he felt the same, he felt something hot and thick running down his arms, making his hands feel sticky and his clothes cling to his skin. A miserable little noise met his ears, followed shortly by the sound of liquid hitting dirt as if someone was pouring a bucket out onto the path. It hit his shoes, and that same thick warmth started disgustingly soaking into his socks. He stopped in his tracks, head snapping down just in time to watch Henry cough up another mouthful of blood.

Robert went pale, throat tightening with terrified shock. He quickly spun around to rush back, only to stumble. A frightened, angry scream tore itself out of his throat as he saw two paths. He didn't know which one he came from, they looked identical to him, and the feeling of Henry's neck drooling crimson all over his torso and palms didn't make focusing any easier. 

"R.. Robert.." Henry croaked, vision swimming. "Robert.. I.. n.. eed... body.. my body.." He blinked his red eyes a few times, bloody tears blurring the forest and coating it in a red tint. He sucked in a ragged, wet breath as he caught sight of Robert's dilemma. "R-Robert.. which.. which w.. ay..?" Robert's breathing was even worse, shaky and quick. 

"I don't know," He gasped, sounding like he was struggling to breathe. Henry could feel Robert's heart pounding against the back of his head, and he was suddenly forced back into awareness as he realized that hearts weren't supposed to beat like that. 

"Robert-!" The older man's knees gave out, and Henry yelped as he tumbled out of his arms. He groaned in pain as he lay on the dirt, only to let out a horrified cry at the sight of Robert collapsed on his side, twitching, eyes glazed over. Oh, as soon as they got out of this, Henry was tearing into this man about why he never told him about his heart condition. 

...if they got out of this..

The thought made him feel sick, and his mind quickly spiraled into worse thoughts. What if Robert didn't recover? What if he died right in front of Henry's eyes? What if he died, too? What would happen to Edward? The Society? Frankenstein and her creation? Rachel? What would happen to Zosi? Would the little church grim know his companion had died? Or would the poor thing roam the streets, believing he'd been abandoned?

He was lost in his thoughts, when the feeling of hands grabbing him and picking him up shook him out of his own panicked mind. He felt dazed euphoria wash over him. Edward! He must have found some way to pilot the body, and had come to rescue—!!

Henry felt his shaky smile vanish automatically as soon as he watched two figures scoop Robert up, the surgeon now limp and unconscious. A third figure stepped out of the trees, Henry's body draped over their arms bridal style, Edward's flames flickering dimly from his neck. He snapped his eyes up to take in the faces of the people carrying them off.

All he could see were flames of varying colours.


	13. Blindfolded By A Loved One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, heads up, this is where the sexual content tag comes in!! If you aren't comfortable with reading that, the scene starts at the first line break and ends at the second line break!

"-ry.... Henry... Henry!!"

Henry made a choked noise as he woke up. A very concerned face was hovering over him, and as his vision finally focused, he recognized the face automatically. 

"Robert...? What- the Dullahans!!" Henry sat bolt upright, scrambling to grab his head. Robert picked it up first, holding it out of reach, and something clenched in Henry's chest, the feeling only made worse by Edward's angry temperature writhing around inside it. Robert, oblivious to the sickly feeling that had settled itself into Henry's gut, stepped further out of Henry's grasp, lifting him up to eye level with a concerned stare.

"Henry... what Dullahans?" Henry blinked, confusion swimming in his head, still foggy from his blood-fit prior earlier that day.

"The.. the Dullahans who saved us...?" Even he sounded unsure now. Robert's frown deepened, and he pressed a palm to Henry's forehead. Realization seemed to spread across his face, and he smiled sympathetically. He reached up to pull something off of Henry's head, and the Scot blinked. When did bandage wraps get there?

"Now I think I understand," Ribert sighed, sitting down next to Henry's fidgeting body. He smoothed his hair back, as if checking an injury. "When I collapsed, I dropped you. I'm afraid your head injury was a bit more severe than I first thought, if you were seeing things." Henry felt disappointment sink in, and he mumbled, "Oh... but.. someone picked me up.. I thought-"

"That was me, Henry," Robert cut him off. "I managed to push through enough to get us back to your body. We're lucky it was only a minor fit, otherwise we may not be here." Henry nodded somberly, then soured, scowling up at a confused Dr. Lanyon.

"So, when were you planning to tell me you had a heart condition?" Robert groaned, irritation flitting about his features.

"I knew you would react like this, hence why I never told you, chuckaboo," Henry huffed at the nickname, knowing Robert was just trying to sweeten him up to get him off his case. Nevertheless, it worked, and he found a blush settling across his face as Robert kept it up with the pet names. He rewrapped his head, kissing the bridge of his nose, then murmured, "Don't worry, love. You seem to be doing a lot better now."

Henry blushed at the attention, though Edward's anger persisted, heating his chest. Henry figured he was just upset with Robert for seperating them and getting them into this mess. His thoughts were cut short by a kiss to the cheek, then one to his mouth. Flustered, he mumbled, "What was that for...?" Robert brushed his hair out of his face, brown eyes soft.

"... I just love how you look like this." He murmured, kissing Henry's cheek again, then pressed a firm kiss to the Scotsman's lips. Henry kissed back, eyes fluttering shut, only to scrunch his brow with discomfort. Edward was blazing hot inside his chest, enraged, and it was starting to hurt.

"Robert.." He mumbled, elliciting a chuckle from the man. He slid down, kissing the small portion of neck attached to his head, and Henry found himself fumbling between reacting to the pain in his chest or the heat in his gut. "R-Robert.." Another kiss, and the surgeon hesitated, before cautiously pressing a kiss to the very edge of his neck. "Robert!" Henry yelped, his body reaching out to snatch his head back. The pain almost immediately lessened, and Robert began to fret over him when he noticed he was holding his chest in pain. For a split second, Henry almost thought Robert was glaring at the green flames now crackling from his neck, but it was gone so fast he was certain he'd imagined it, likely just the lighting of the room making his concerned frown look more aggressive.

"Get you too worked up, did I?" He laughed nervously, glancing at the emerald fire briefly before gently picking his head back up, kissing his temple. "Maybe it is too soon after such an ordeal, you're probably still recovering. In fact, you likely need your rest. Come on, let's get you dressed for bed." Henry blushed hard, ignoring Edward's uncharacteristic anger at the moment.

"W-Wh– Robert, I can dress myself!" Henry stammered as Robert placed his head upon a pillow, gently tugging his body up by the arms. He undid his ascot, smirking at Henry's flushed appearance and wide-eyed staring. 

* * *

"Why, Dr. Jekyll!" He exclaimed in dramatized shock. "I didn't take you for a voyeur~" Henry sputtered at that, and crossed his arms over his chest. Robert chuckled, shaking his head, and gently slid the ascot off. He paused, biting his lip, then walked over to Henry with a heavy look. The Dullahan felt his mouth dry up as his face heated further. "My dearest Henry.. might I tempt you to a more.. _interesting_ approach to this situation~?" Mind fizzing with thoughts too scrambled to make out, Henry let out a squeaky, "U-Um, y.. yes.. yes you may.." Robert smiled, sliding the red strip of silk around the back of Henry's head, tying it over his eyes. Henry swallowed thickly, goosebumps lifting up on his arms.

He could feel Robert allowing his fingers to brush over his skin, running up his arms to the collar of his shirt. From there, they slid down, palms pressed flat to his torso, trailing over his collar bones. Robert gently undid the first button of his vest, then the second, continuing down at an agonizingly slow pace. Finally, he gently slid the vest down his arms, letting the fabric pool at Henry's elbows. The alchemist sucked in a sharp breath when he heard Robert lower himself onto his knees, then shivered as gentle kisses were pressed to his fingertips and inner wrists. The vest was slipt the rest of the way off, and Robert stood up, walking over to the wardrobe to fold it and put it away, giving Henry some time to try and steady his rapid pulse. 

"How are you feeling? I hope I'm not crossing any boundries," Robert asked softly as he walked back over, beginning the same process with his dress shirt. Henry laughed breathlessly, wisping out, "No, you're not. I'm just... overwhelmed, but.. in a good way." Robert rolled his eyes fondly at his partner's words, kissing his throat as he undid his shirt, pulling it loose from Henry's waistband and walking over to put it in the hamper. He did the same thing with his undershirt. When he returned, he couldn't help but stare. Henry's skin was pale and soft, discoloured with acid scars and other such marks. He couldn't help but press his hands to those warm, velvety sides, gently flitting up and down his body. Henry made an odd sort of noise, and Robert tugged him closer by his hips with a grin.

"Something wrong, Harry~?"

"N-No.. no, everythi-ing's.. p-p-perfect.."

Robert guided Henry to sit down on the bed, fiddling with his trousers, before carefully removing them, then, for the first time, hesitated. He swallowed thickly before allowing his eyes to drift upwards. Seeing his darling doctor in nothing but his drawers made his throat stick. He gently slid his hands up Henry's legs, the cotton fabric tickling his palms, listening to the Scot's shaky breaths. He curled his fingers into the waistband of his drawers, quietly asking, "Henry..?"

"... g... go ahead, Robert.. j-just.. nothing further, please.. I.. I-I'm not–"

"I know, love, you're not ready," Robert finished his sentence, not missing the way Henry's face relaxed. He carefully slid them down, politely keeping his eyes aimed at the ground between Henry's feet. He tugged them past the Dullahan's ankles, then put them in the clothing bin with the rest of the dirty laundry. He turned around and immediately sucked in a sharp breath. He eagerly approached his lover, fingers twitching, and placed a hand to Henry's chest. He slowly slid it down until it rested on his navel, breathing deeply, as opposed to Henry's own jittery breaths. 

"Dear lord.. you look amazing," He murmured as he rested his forehead against the hollow of Henry's neck. He could feel his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and he found himself wondering how that was even possible. Instead of focusing on that, he focused on the sight below him. "God.. you don't mind that I'm looking, do you?"

"L-Look as much as you'd like.. j-just don't take it any further.." Robert nodded even though Henry couldn't see him, reaching over to run his hands soothingly through the younger doctor's hair.

"Of course, chuckaboo~" He teased, though he meant what he said. He let his hands drift over Henry's sides and hips, then swim along his thighs, before he finally stood up, fetching a long nightshirt for Henry. He stood him up, got him dressed, and then hastily disrobed and dressed himself in sleepwear as well. He walked over, slipping the ascot off of Henry's face, then folded it and put it away in a drawer.

* * *

Henry was beet red, and Robert chuckled as he scooped him up, kissing obnoxiously at his heated face. He carefully helped him into bed, relaxing as Henry wrapped his arms over his middle, the scientist's head curled beneath Robert's chin. He felt a little guilty about what he'd just done. As much as Henry had been enjoying himself (something he'd seen physical evidence of, as well), he hadn't known Robert's true motives, and it ate away at him. Really, it had been an experiment. He was nervous a time would come where Henry would want to take the next step, and while he was already dreading that for reasons he wasn't ready to get into, he had recently gained a new worry; could he really be attracted physically to someone without a head. The answer, much to his relief, was apparently yes, as long as they were a Dullahan, specifically a Dullahan named Henry Jekyll. He figured it wasn't important, and the guilt slowly started to subside. Afterall, Henry would surely understand if he ever found out.

He smiled, getting comfortable, and soon enough he was snoring softly. Henry smiled, petting at Robert's torso sleepily. He started to relax as well, ready to just drift off next to one of the men he loved.

_"Don't trust him, Henry. He isn't anything like what you think he is."_

Henry's eyes snapped open, and he remained stiff and awake for the rest of the night, Edward's cryptic warning ringing through his head as the other refused to say another word.


	14. Returning With Secrets & Stowaways

Henry grumbled in his sleep, then slowly cracked an eye open. He could hear voices, someone talking.. Robert..?

"-ucket of water will shut you right up, you damned imp!"

**"BaStArD..."**

"God, your voice is like sand grinding against a chalkboard!"

Henry stared in shock as Robert bickered with Edward's flame form, the flickering green phantom hissing insults at the aristocrat. Robert's brown eyes narrowed dangerously at something too low for Henry to hear, and he strode forward, towering over the man made of fire. In a low voice, he growled, "I'd mind my tongue if I were you. Remember; you tell Henry so much as one word of what happened, and I'll turn him on you so fast he'll seperate from you without hesitation." Henry felt his stomach clench, just laying there pretending to be asleep as his partners threatened one another. What was Robert talking about? What happened? Why did Robert feel the need to do all this? What was going on!?

He stiffened as Robert slipt back into bed, tossing an arm over his waist and holding him close. Henry laid there, trying not to react, as Robert kissed the back of his neck and murmured 'I love you's before falling asleep.

* * *

"Dear lord, did your luggage get heavier all of a sudden?"

Henry was quiet, before snapping back to attention. Robert was giving him a worried look, clearly expecting a response, and Henry lamely joked, "Well, maybe you're just tired from all this lifting and carrying, so it feels heavier now?" Robert rolled his eyes as they both heaved the trunk into the back of the coach, leaning on it and giving Henry a coy look.

"Right, it's definitely not that you've probably snuck some books to read back home," Henry scoffed at the accusation, cheeks colouring as Robert laughed.

"That was one time, and I did return them," Henry huffed. Robert raised a brow, earning a flustered glare. "I did! ...eventually.." The older doctor shook his head fondly, then helped Henry into the coach. As they got comfy, Frankenstein and her creation climbing in as well, Henry couldn't help but fidget nervously. His head was swimming with what he'd overheard, so much so he didn't even notice when Robert's grandmother gave Frankenstein a kiss on the cheek goodbye, nor his lover's offended squawk in response. What did get his attention, however, was multiple voices crying out in shock as something landed on top of the coach.

"O-Oh! Oh, no, get down from there!" Henry gasped, leaning out of the door to try and persuade the kelpie to get off of the carriage. The horse shrieked in response, aggravated and refusing to get down. Henry could only be thankful she hadn't opened her dog-like mouth all the way, lest Robert's grandma have a heart attack at the sight. As of right now, she was merely gaping at the sight of a black mare standing atop their transportation. "P-Please, just–!! You can keep pace with the coach, just please get down!!" With an angry stamp of her hoof, the kelpie leapt down, thankfully not trampling anybody, and butted her head against Henry. He pet her to get her to settle down, then sat with an embarrassed cringe as everyone in the coach stared at him. How was he supposed to keep and care for a kelpie in London, on top of the Society, keeping his secret, and this sudden issue with Robert?

"Bringing a friend along, are we?" Robert teased. Henry looked away with a flustered grumble, missing the sound of a sharp intake of breath, muffled and tiny. After a while, the coachman set off, bewildered as to why there was another horse following them, but not questioning it. Rich people were bizarre like that, he supposed. The ride back was even more awkward than the ride there, with Robert and Frankenstein arguing more vehemently about the romantic availability of Robert's grandmother, and Henry so lost in his own head he never bothered to try and ease their tempers. Frankenstein's patchwork behemoth was more than happy to excuse himself to unload the luggage, carrying all of it with ease. He dumped it in the main entrance for now, moving to grab Frankenstein before she could start swinging at the chubby-cheeked doctor.

"She's insufferable!" Robert growled, trying to smooth down his curls. Henry moved to stroke the kelpie's snout, watching the coachman head off back to the Lanyon estate. "Oh, right. That." Henry jumped, looking over as Robert warily aporoached the equine. The kelpie pulled back her lips, baring her sharp teeth at the man, who hastily stepped behind his Dullahan lover.

"Um.. we.. might have a stable out back? Jasper has some of his hooved animals there," The Scotsman offered, stroking his steed's mane. She huffed at him, giving him a look as if to say 'you have horrible taste in humans' (though knowing her diet, taste could be a rather literal descriptor). "I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to see her, actually. Kelpie's aren't native to London." With that, he decided that their luggage could wait a moment, and began guiding her to the back of the building. Robert almost protested, but sighed and followed along. The worst that could happen was the Lodgers poked their noses into boring boxes of folded clothes.

In the dead quiet of the entrance hall, a knife suddenly stuck through the gap of Henry's trunk, wedging it open. A slender hand followed suit, holding a thin metal rod, followed by another holding a similar stick with a hook on the end. After a bit of fussing, the lock clicked and fell open, and the lid swung back.


	15. Cat

_Quiet._

A footstep echoed in the hall, followed by a grumbled curse at the damned polished marble beneath their feet. It took a few more steps before they managed to find the right way to muffle the noise, though it was tempting to just remove the leather boots altogether. Another step, then another, only for the rhythm to be interrupted by a mad dash for cover.

"-yll apparently brought back some rare creature," A voice, light and sweet, bounced around the hall moments before the speaker came into view. They stayed crouched behind the guest seats in the hall, ones with adorned with disgustingly lavish velvet. Drawing their scorn away from the seats, they turned their crimson gaze back on the two people walking past them. A tall woman with short black hair and dark eyes was listening intently to a much shorter one, with dark skin adorned with freckles, her thick curls spilling out from underneath her hat.

"You're _sure_ this isn't just another of Helsby's little 'facts'?" The taller asked the shorter, prompting a little giggle. The noise irritated them, and they bit back a snarl.

"It was Jasper who told me, actually!" She explained, and they focused more intently on the two at the name. "He was so excited about it! Dr. Jekyll gave him permission to care for it and everything! He wouldn't let me down to see it, though. Said it's too dangerous." They scoffed under their breath; not one of theirs, then, just another of these filth who happened to have a proper name. They tuned out the rest of the conversation, just wanting the two to hurry up and pass by already.

"-on your lip, Ms. Flowers." Eugh, not only did that disgusting thing have a proper name, but they'd twisted it into one of those horrendously pointless _surnames_ , too.

"Oh, do I?" They looked over, confused. Why were they standing so much closer? And why right in front of their hiding place? "Perhaps you could assist me in getting it off, Ms. Ito?" They managed to bite back a disgusted noise at the sight of the two embracing.

It was much harder to swallow down their disgust when it went a bit further than just an embrace. They averted their gaze, fingers twitching towards the hilt of their dagger. By the time they'd just managed to convince themself they could get away with it, the two women seperated, both looking rather unkempt and flustered. The shorter one giggled again (annoying) and the taller one smiled (pathetic), then commented, "You tempt me too much, Regina. If Dr. Jekyll saw us–"

"Oh, please," The other laughed. "Dr. Jekyll is probably off kissing Dr. Lanyon as we speak! That is, unless he's still pining!" More laughter (horrible, grating laughter), before the two finally vanished from sight. They slipped free of their hiding place, glaring in the direction the two had gone, and allowed themself a hate-filled, "Wretched vermin.", before turning and continuing on their way.

* * *

 _There you are,_ Their eyes fixed on the man they'd seen through the window, narrowing. They crept along through the bushes that lined the pathways of the inside garden, grateful for the grass beneath their feet instead of any of the ugly stone this place was full of. They watched as he spoke to the man who had been with him back in their homeland, and they shuddered everytime the two brushed against one another or touched. _Tainted. Have to fix that when we get back, scrub out every last trace of this wretched, smog-stenched place. Hopefully it isn't too late for you, poor lad._ They roused themself from their thoughts just in time to avoid being caught, tense and ready to spring into action. Luckily, the taller man's brown eyes slid passed the gap in the leaves, saying to the other, "Probably just Griffin's cat, you know the odd thing's had a staring problem."

"You're probably right," The poor soul sighed, and their heart ached with sympathy at how weary he sounded. "Still, it's disconcerting, feeling.. _watched_." They could only watch as he was led away, growling at the sight of the taller one gripping his arm. A prisoner, of course. Poor thing was probably out of his mind from so long spent with these vile beasts.

"Don't worry, little spark, I'll get you away from these humans. Tonight, you'll be back home safe and sound, where you belong."


End file.
